


Fine Dining

by iamshame



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I have no idea how to tag the gender pairings in this kind of example, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Other, Sexual Humor, Terrible Food Metaphors, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-03 08:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamshame/pseuds/iamshame
Summary: "There was something else I was going to ask you," Aziraphale continued, unabashed. "Ah… How to put it?" He tapped his hand on his thigh for a moment, and then apparently found inspiration. "Ah! When you're…" Crowley made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and Aziraphale gave him another outrageous wink. "Dining out… What cutlery do you prefer to use?""I'm sorry?" Crowley said pleasantly, trying his best not to cause anything in the dining room to catch aflame in his frustration.Aziraphale gave him a reproachful stare, as if Crowley were being very stupid. "When you're eating, Crowley. Do you favour the… The knife?" Aziraphale actually glanced conspicuously at his own crotch, and Crowley considered leaving the dining room via the nearest window. "Or the spoon?" Another raised eyebrow. "Or even, let's say, a fork?""What the fuck is the fork in this situation?" Crowley hissed through gritted teeth.---Aziraphale mentions that he'd like to have sex with Crowley. Crowley is completely taken-aback, and very conflicted, and very interested. Aziraphale is also trying to kill him by using elaborate food metaphors to explain the whole subject, which is not helping in the slightest.





	1. Chapter 1

The apocalypse came (which wasn’t at all surprising), and then it just left again (which was), and life went on. More surprising even than that, though, was how easy Crowley was finding his new life. No reporting to downstairs, no shadowy figures watching him, none of what Aziraphale called “caution” but Crowley teased him about being more like “paranoia”. There was just him, and Aziraphale, and, well, the entirety of humanity, he supposed.

But really, what mattered was Aziraphale.

They could spend a lot of time together now, as much as they wanted, unhindered by propriety or fears of their “fraternisation” being detected. Initially Crowley had a sinking fear that maybe things would change between them, that Aziraphale would go off him if they spent too much time together. But even a few months after the not-end-of-the-world, Aziraphale showed no sign of growing bored of his company. They didn’t spend every hour of every day together, of course. Crowley had things to do. Plants to shout at, little temptations to accomplish just to entertain himself, long and extremely fast drives to go on. And Aziraphale had books to deliberately avoid selling, disgustingly old-fashioned clothes to buy, and endless desserts to sample. But, well. If they spent the evening, or the day, together more often than not, then who was watching? And if Aziraphale sometimes accompanied Crowley on the long fast drives (to complain about his driving habits, and to talk loudly about how he could tend to any hapless pedestrians that might get in the way), and Crowley sometimes came along to the restaurant to indulgently watch Aziraphale spoon creme brûlée into his small pink mouth, then what was the harm? And there was no reason to be ashamed anymore, because although Crowley did sometimes struggle to believe it, Aziraphale told him every day in word and gesture and attention that the two of them would be together for the far-foreseeable future. 

That is to say, forever.

In short, Crowley was contented. Extremely so.

They were at the bookshop one night, sharing a red wine that was probably far too nice to be swigged directly from the bottle. They tended to default to the bookshop, Crowley didn’t know why. They’d had an entirely pleasant dinner, and now they were sprawled (or, well, Crowley was sprawled, Aziraphale was sat primly) in the back, just getting into the good bit of “really quite drunk”.

Aziraphale was waxing lyrical about the best macarons he’d ever tasted (“and dear you absolutely must try them, I know you don’t eat as a rule, but you don’t know what you’re missing, we should get one of those little selection boxes...”), and Crowley was nodding along solemnly. He was also enjoying the pinkness in Aziraphale’s cheeks and the way that one little blonde curl was sticking up at a slightly different angle from the rest.

Suddenly Aziraphale interrupted his own monologue to give a little “oh!” of surprise, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. He immediately followed it with another, and sat up a little straighter. “Oh! Crowley, I was going to ask you something! It had quite gone out of my mind!”

“Yes, angel?” Crowley asked idly, and took another swig of wine. 

“I hope you don’t mind, it’s a little… _forward_,” Aziraphale said in a stage-whisper, leaning forward confidentially. 

Crowley snorted and swallowed. “Forward, Aziraphale? You? It took you six thousand years to admit that we were friends.”

Aziraphale gave him a slightly admonishing, if guilty, glance. “Now don’t start that again, you know full well I was just lying to myself, and I have apologised.”

“I know, I know, I was only teasing,” Crowley said. He had removed his glasses quite some time ago, so he could blink slowly in a way he knew that Aziraphale interpreted as contrite.“Carry on.” He waved an arm in extravagant permission.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, cheering up again instantly. The apples of his cheeks were so round, it was ridiculous. “It just crossed my mind the other day – I wondered whether you’d be interested in some sexual activity with me?”

Crowley was deeply glad he’d swallowed his wine. As it was, he still nearly dropped the bottle. “You?! What?!”

“Oh, you see, now I did warn you it was forward,” Aziraphale said, competently confiscating the bottle as Crowley spluttered. “Only if you fancy it, my dear. It just occurred to me, and since no one’s watching us anymore, and well... I’m sure we’d be well-suited, and it would be jolly good fun, and very enjoyable.”

Crowley must have still been gaping his astonishment, because Aziraphale actually tutted him. “Oh, come now, Crowley, there’s no need to be so dramatic. It’s not as if we haven’t done it before, separately of course, I just thought...”

“You?!” Crowley managed. “You! You have? You’ve? You might have done it before, angel, but I…" Seeing how Aziraphale's face was beginning to change, he began to backpedal. "That is to say, it’s not that I _haven’t_, per se, but…”

“Oh, goodness,” Aziraphale said, looking very shocked. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I just assumed, silly of me. I do beg your pardon. I rather thought that it rather came with the territory. Tempting, and all that.”

“I...” Crowley flapped his arms in agitation. “I can _tempt_ people without actually doing the dirty work myself!”

“The dirty work being, well, shagging them, I suppose,” Aziraphale said, still in that confidential tone that Crowley would take the piss out of had he not been suffering something of a meltdown. 

“What?! Shag... What are you? How do you...? You know what...? You’ve...”

“You’re not being very clear, Crowley,” Aziraphale said concernedly. “But yes, of course I know what it is, and yes, it’s something I’ve indulged in fairly frequently. I mean, over the decades, that is. When the mood strikes.”

“The mood...?” Crowley asked breathlessly. “And that’s what...? That’s what’s brought this on, has it? The _mood_?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said. “A little of that." He wiggled in his chair, very slightly. "And a little of being curious about you, I suppose. I didn’t imagine that you were, well... So reserved, in that respect.” He took a pointed sip from the bottle of wine. Crowley waited until he'd finished before snatching it back off him. 

“I’m not reserved!” Crowley snapped. “It’s not my fault you’re some kind of...” He flapped his arm again. “Hedonist!”

He’d expected Aziraphale to object, but the angel merely nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose that’s more than fair. I do enjoy the finer things in life, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Fine food, fine music, and well…. Sometimes other things, as well. But if you’re not so inclined, my dear fellow, then please…" He held out his hand in supplication. "Let’s forget I mentioned it. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“‘M not embarrassed!” Crowley lied. 

“Oh, well!” Aziraphale said, apparently cheered by Crowley’s fake-casual attitude. “Well then, tell all! Why haven’t you indulged then, Crowley? It really is most diverting. Don’t you worry you’re missing out?”

“I...” Crowley stammered, and worried for a moment that he was a little too drunk for this conversation. “I don’t... It’s not that... I don’t think about it?” He said, as if hoping that was the explanation. But no, he did think about it. It was just squashed far down in a crate of “things Crowley isn’t going to deal with right now” (which was mainly full with an enormous amount of feelings for Aziraphale and various other very undemonic emotions). Not that sexual activity was undemonic. Quite the contrary. But Crowley had never really been interested enough to seek it out.Besides, Aziraphale certainly didn’t have the problem of enormous glowing yellow snake eyes to explain to any potential human paramour. Aziraphale looked entirely normal, Crowley thought bitterly, if by normal you meant unusually attractive.

Aziraphale opened his mouth again, but Crowley forestalled him. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t think about it, it’s just that... It would be harder for me, on account of...” He waved vaguely at his eyes. “And I... It didn’t seem a good idea!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, understanding and disappointed all at the same time. “You really don’t have to justify yourself, Crowley, it’s quite all right, I was just curious. It’s entirely your own choice, of course. I suppose I've always been a bit keener on the pleasures of the flesh than you, haven’t I?”

“Ngk,” Crowley said. 

“Anyway, forget I said anything,” Aziraphale said.

“No!” Crowley said, sitting up suddenly and feeling his head swim. Too much wine. “Ugh, blast it... No, I... I don’t want you to forget about it, just because I haven’t... before, it doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, looking positively thrilled. “Oh, really, Crowley? That would be lovely. Well, I really could show you what you’ve been missing.”

Crowley made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat, and tried to cover it up by drinking more wine.

“As long as you’re sure you’re not... You’re not doing this just to indulge me, are you?” Aziraphale fretted. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that you weren’t interested in.”

Crowley glanced up at him, and he wanted to say that he’d go through an infinite number of terrible tortures to indulge Aziraphale, but maybe that wasn’t very comforting. “No, it’s not... No,” he said. “I’m... I’m interested.” Certainly that was one of the greatest understatements since he'd heard Noah's next-door neighbours concerned about "a bit of a shower", but never mind.

“Oh good,” Aziraphale said, and his sunny smile lit up the room. In fact, maybe it was literally lighting up the room. Crowley squinted. Aziraphale did get a bit laissez-faire with the miracles after a few drinks. “Well that is really very nice, I’m so glad I mentioned it. We’ll discuss it another day.”

“Hm,” Crowley managed, not trusting himself to say anything more on the topic, and downed the rest of the bottle of wine. "You got any more of these?"

***

Crowley woke up in his own bed the next morning, and the fact that he’d forgotten to miracle himself sober in time to avoid a hangover was sufficient to distract him completely from the conversation of the previous night. 

So when Aziraphale gave him a call in the early afternoon asking whether Crowley would fancy the Ritz for a late lunch, Crowley wasn’t at all suspicious. It was quite normal for Aziraphale to phone up to arrange these little meetings (Aziraphale quite liked to call them “dates”, but Crowley thought that the human word wholly failed to encapsulate the Significance of a six thousand year relationship), so of course Crowley was happy to accept.

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did, and they'd just ordered the white chocolate and coconut mousseline for dessert (or at least, Aziraphale had), when Aziraphale gave a small, delicate cough. Crowley glanced at him curiously.

"Have you had a chance to think about our conversation last night, my dear?"  


"Last night?" Crowley said, wracking his brain.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and very flirtatiously nudged at Crowley's calf with his shoe, and Crowley's brain short-circuited as the memory came rushing back to him in vivid technicolour.

"You know," Aziraphale said coyly. "Have you thought any more about it?"

"I… Ng… I… Yes, a little," Crowley managed, hoping it wasn't too obvious that the additional thinking had been done in the last four seconds.

Aziraphale actually _wiggled_ again, and Crowley stared off abruptly in the direction of another table so he wouldn't lose his mind. A young woman on his left, sitting with her mother, returned his terrifying stare with a distinctly disturbed expression. 

"Well, that is excellent," Aziraphale said. "Do you…? Have you had any thoughts about _when_ we could…? I'm sorry, I don't want to be pushy, of course, I just… Well, I'm excited, truth be told."

"Excited?" Crowley said, his voice strangled.

"Well, yes, of course," Aziraphale said, as though it were obvious. "I was thinking about it just this morning."

"Hmmmm," Crowley said seriously, tried not to think about Aziraphale _thinking_ about it, and crossed his legs decisively under the table. Aziraphale, who surely could be classified as significantly more than "a little bit" of a bastard these days, poked at his leg again. 

"What I was thinking, actually," Aziraphale said, and Crowley paused to give a silent prayer to _someone_ that Aziraphale wasn't about to start discussing anything explicit in their favourite restaurant. "It's rather like this, isn't it?"

"Like what?" Crowley asked politely, refraining from adding the words "you complete lunatic" on to the end of the phrase.

"This!" Aziraphale waved his arms enthusiastically at the entirety of the dining room. The young woman to his left dropped her fork in surprise. "The restaurant experience. _Fine dining_, you know. Eating."

"How so?" Crowley asked his voice still slightly strangled. 

"Well, it's not really _necessary_, is it?" Aziraphale said, his voice lowered again. "Dining out. I mean, it's very pleasant, certainly. But one doesn't _need_ it. However, with the right company…" He gave Crowley a wink that could accurately be described as _sinful_. "Sublime, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, well," Crowley said, and was extortionately grateful when the waiter turned up with Aziraphale's dessert. A few seconds later, he regretted that too, as Aziraphale greeted it with relish, wiggled _yet-a-fucking-again_, and began to eat with gusto. Crowley glanced at the ceiling vengefully this time, to give the woman to his left some respite.

"Oh, this is absolutely delicious, Crowley," Aziraphale was saying, dabbing his mouth quite unnecessarily. Crowley tried not to look. "Anyway. Don't you think that's the most suitable little metaphor? Sums it up rather well, I think."

"Quite," Crowley said.

"There was something else I was going to ask you," Aziraphale continued, unabashed. "Ah… How to put it?" He tapped his hand on his thigh for a moment, and then apparently found inspiration. "Ah! When you're…" Crowley made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and Aziraphale gave him another outrageous wink. "_Eating_… What _cutlery _do you prefer to use?"

"I'm sorry?" Crowley said pleasantly, trying his best not to cause anything in the dining room to catch aflame in his frustration. 

Aziraphale gave him a reproachful stare, as if Crowley were being very stupid. "When you're _eating_, Crowley. Do you favour the… The _knife_?" Aziraphale actually glanced conspicuously at his own crotch, and Crowley considered leaving the dining room via the nearest window. "Or the _spoon_?" Another raised eyebrow. "Or even, let's say, a _fork_?"

"What the _fuck_ is the fork in this situation?" Crowley hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, anything a little outside of the traditional models," Aziraphale said, dabbing his mouth again, as if he weren't blatantly discussing _genitalia _at the dinner table. 

"Give me strength," Crowley muttered. "I thought we established yesterday that I…" He glanced around the dining room venomously, as if daring someone to overhear. The woman to his left had the good sense to look the other way. "I haven't _dined out_ before."

Aziraphale tutted again. "I know that, dear boy, but what about when you _dine alone_?"

"I haven't _dined alone_ either," Crowley hissed. 

Aziraphale fumbled his tiny silver spoon. "You…? You've _never_?"

"No," Crowley said, his teeth gritted. "That is, as long as that means what I think it means. Please don't try to clarify while we're here, for Satan's sake."

"All right, all right, I won't," Aziraphale said, taking another mouthful of dessert. "Goodness me, Crowley. You do surprise me. Never?"

"No," Crowley said.

"Whyever not?" Aziraphale said, sounding genuinely interested. Crowley gave him a long look, and wondered why he'd fallen head-over-heels for such an idiot.

Then again, it was probably difficult for Aziraphale to understand. Being of pure angelic love, and all that. The thing that had always disturbed Crowley rather about self-pleasure was, well, the _self_ part of it. Feeling a general loathing for most of the world, oneself included, was indeed very demonic of him. It also made it very difficult to indulge oneself, as Aziraphale was such a fan of doing. Of course, while Aziraphale deserved his little indulgences, Crowley found it rather hard to believe that he himself did. He'd always considered the whole business, well, a little repulsive and off-putting. _Self-love_, indeed. Ugh. 

Unable to put that all into words in a busy restaurant, Crowley stammered, "Well… I… I feel a little self-conscious, you know? Dining alone, that is."

"You needn't be embarrassed, you know," Aziraphale said sincerely.

"It's not that," Crowley hissed. "I just… I would prefer not to be by myself."

"You would prefer to _dine_ with someone else?" Aziraphale said wisely.

"Yes," Crowley said hopelessly. "Well, not with just anyone, obviously."

Aziraphale actually pointed at himself conspicuously, as if he'd adapted his "child entertainer" routine from "magician" to "pantomime performer" and mouthed "_me?_". 

Crowley closed his eyes in despair for a moment, and regretted all the choices that had led him up this point. "Yes. You."

"Oh good," Aziraphale said, and resumed his dessert. "Such a shame, though, Crowley. I'm sorry I keep saying it, but you have been missing out. Anyway, fine, if you don't _dine alone_, then what cutlery do you use on a day-to-day basis?"

Crowley thought he sensed one of the waiters giving them an odd look, and quietly carved the smallest of demonic curses into the back of his head to make himself feel better. "I… I switch it up, really." Sometimes from day-to-day, or sometimes he stuck with the same format for a few decades, but he enjoyed the variety. 

"Oh, interesting," Aziraphale said. "Depends on how you feel, or…?"

Crowley hesitated, and then confessed. "It more depends on what I'm wearing, to be honest."

"Ah!" Aziraphale said. "Very wise. I suppose sometimes the, ah, _bulge_, of a _weapon_ is not a suitable look, and sometimes it might be preferred?"

"Quite," Crowley managed, and then, to be polite, said casually, "And which do you prefer?"

"Oh, the knife, most of the time," Aziraphale said cheerfully. "I have experimented, of course, and I have _no_ complaints with the spoon. Not in the slightest! A truly excellent item. Just a slight personal preference, I suppose."

"Oh good," Crowley said faintly. Aziraphale made a few more nonsensical comments about knives before Crowley thought it wise to lean over. "Aziraphale, I know you're hardly the picture of a gang member, but you might be a little more cautious about discussing _carrying a knife_ in a London restaurant."

"Ah, yes, right you are," Aziraphale said blithely. Another neat mouthful of dessert, and Crowley tried his very best not to focus on what secret sexual meaning that might have. _How_ was it taking him so long to eat? "There was something else, I know there was… Ah yes." He waved his spoon in the air a little, as if searching for inspiration. Crowley pre-emptively dreaded the next part of the extended metaphor. "If we were to _dine out_, would you prefer to eat off our own plates, or to… Sample from one another's?"

Crowley hadn't dreaded the metaphor nearly as much as it had deserved. "You have completely lost me."

"I'll put it another way. Would you rather me put some food on to _your plate_, or would you rather put some food _on to mine_?"

"I really think we need to leave," Crowley said, his voice strangled. 

"Oh," Aziraphale said, surprised and disappointed. "But I haven't finished the mousseline."

"You've been eating it for _ages_," Crowley pleaded.

"Well, that's the nice thing about _dining out_, really," Aziraphale said smugly. "It's not about rushing through everything. It's about really taking your time to savour the moment."

"I am begging you," Crowley said, and lowered his glasses a fraction, so Aziraphale could see that he was serious. "Let's leave."

Aziraphale still looked a little chagrined, but he did set his spoon down and nod in agreement. The waiter who Crowley had only minorly cursed appeared a little more rapidly than was entirely natural, Crowley vastly overpaid the bill, and they hurried out.

The Bentley was waiting outside, of course, and Crowley got in silently. Aziraphale climbed in beside him, and seemed to have every intention of resuming the conversation. 

"Please, give me a moment," Crowley said, taking a breath and leaning back into his seat.

Aziraphale immediately looked concerned. "Are you quite all right, Crowley? I didn't upset you, did I?"

"No," Crowley said honestly. "I just couldn't survive another moment of trying to negotiate oblique sexual metaphors with you in a public place."

"You _are_ embarrassed," Aziraphale said, sounding very fond.

Crowley gave an angry growl in response and started the car. He feared that was confirmation enough.

Not thirty seconds into the drive, Aziraphale put a very warm hand on his knee. Crowley would have driven them directly into oncoming traffic had the Bentley not personally objected and veered them back to safety of its own free will. "Angel! What are you _doing_?"

"Sorry," Aziraphale said, a little breathless from the sudden swerving. "Oh goodness. I just was going to ask…?"

"Please don't," Crowley managed. "Because I will discorporate both of us if you distract me like that."

"Oh," Aziraphale said smugly. "Distracting, am I?"

Crowley felt his ears burn red-hot, whether from the shame/embarrassment/arousal he was currently feeling, or from some frustrated demonic energy trying to leak out of them, he didn't know. "Yes," he said, teeth gritted.

"Little old me?" Aziraphale said teasingly, and placed his hand back on Crowley's thigh. His fingers dug in, just a fraction. There was something possessive about the touch. Crowley actually closed his eyes for a moment, and the Bentley swerved again. 

"Yes, blast you…"

Aziraphale's laugh was a little breathless. "Well, my dear. I am flattered."

Crowley muttered another demonic curse under his breath, and pressed his foot flat to the floor in an effort to simply accelerate his way away from his problems. In his defence, it had worked for him in the past. Fortunately (though also to Crowley's regret), Aziraphale didn't make any further advances in the car, though that might have been because he was struggling to keep his balance with the even-more-distracted-than-usual driving.

Crowley was hardly even aware of getting to the bookshop, but Aziraphale bundled them both inside quickly, and deposited Crowley in the backroom while he went to prepare some tea. Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and sat there in something of a daze until Aziraphale returned for him and pressed a hot mug into his hands.

"So," Aziraphale said conspiratorially. "Can we continue our conversation?"

Crowley made a small vocalisation that might have been a sob or a groan. 

Aziraphale seemed to take that as assent, because he said, "What I was trying to _say_, in the restaurant, was would you like any _penetration_ to be involved, or would you like us to keep ourselves to ourselves in that regard?"

Crowley said absolutely nothing, and vaguely wished that they'd died in a fiery car wreck on the way here.

"And if there _was_ anything of that nature," Aziraphale continued, undaunted. "Would you prefer to be the one doing the penetrating, or would you prefer it to be me?"

"Ngk," Crowley said.

"Come now, dear, you must _tell _me what you're thinking," Aziraphale said gently. "Or how will I know?"

"I'm not sure I'm thinking anything," Crowley said honestly.

"Well, if you'd rather we didn't involve that particular activity, that's absolutely fine, there's _plenty_…"

"I didn't say that," Crowley said, and then covered his face.

"Oh," Aziraphale said significantly. "And you'd prefer…?"  


Crowley's mind cursed him with two extremely brief, vivid fantasies. In one, Aziraphale hovered over him, nude, legs spread, arms shaking with the effort, face delightfully flushed, and oh-so-carefully lowered himself on to Crowley's cock. In the other, there were warm, dextrous fingers _inside _Crowley, and then Aziraphale meeting his eyes with so much love in them that Crowley thought he'd burn up with it, demon or not, and then Aziraphale pushing _forwards_, hot and hard _inside him_.

"Uh," Crowley said eloquently. "You doing the… The penetrating."

"Oh, excellent," Aziraphale, and Crowley felt a soft rush of relief that that hadn't somehow been an incorrect answer. A moment later, it was followed by incredulity.

"I can't believe you tried to mention that _in a restaurant_, trying to use _food on plates_ as a comparison."

"Not my finest work, I admit," Aziraphale said. "I hadn't thought the metaphor through properly. I'm _sure_ there's a way…"

"Please don't," Crowley said. 

"Anyway," Aziraphale continued breezily. "So just to recap, you don't have a preference regarding genitalia, you'd be interested in penetrative sex, but as the receiver?"

Crowley considered whether he'd be able to drown himself in the cup of tea Aziraphale had given him.

"Well, if you really don't have a preference," Aziraphale hummed. "I suppose the female model would be easier, as a starting point. It is at least naturally designed for that sort of thing (not that the other isn't very well suited!). But much easier for a novice, I expect."

"The female model," Crowley muttered.

"Yes," Aziraphale said, and seemed ready to leap into an anatomy lesson. "The labia, of course…" He made a delicate cupping gesture with his hands. "And…"

"No, no, no," Crowley said quickly. "I know exactly what is involved, not to worry."

"Oh good," Aziraphale said. "And do you have a preference as to what I would, ah, use? There are a lot of options, certainly, with fingers, or with other, ah, objects, even if…"

"Stop," Crowley blurted. "The male model will work fine. You said you preferred that, let's go for that, it'll work fine with mine, let's not talk about it any more, please…"

"Suit yourself," Aziraphale said primly. "Well, that all seems rather good. Very traditional, at least for the, ah, your, first time."

Crowley muttered yet another obscenity under his breath, and then paused. "The?"

"Hmmm?" Aziraphale fidgeted with his tea.

"The first time, you said," Crowley said.

"No. Well. I mean to say "your". _Your_ first time."

"You're already thinking of doing this again," Crowley said incredulously. "You're… You're thinking of a repeat performance, already?"

"Well, yes," Aziraphale said, face _finally_ a little pink. He set the cup of tea down. "I mean, the possibilities are practically infinite. I'm very keen on showing you all the variations, so to speak."

"You're very confident this will go well, then?" Crowley said, hoping the vulnerability wouldn't show in his face. By the soft smile Aziraphale gave him, he hadn't hoped hard enough.

"My dear," Aziraphale said, and leaned forward into Crowley's space, reaching out to touch his cheek gently. Crowley leaned helplessly into the touch. "Yes, I am. I can't imagine spending time with you in any capacity being anything other than a joy. Obviously if you don't enjoy yourself then there will be absolutely no pressure from my end. But really, you're so beautiful, and so good… I just can't help planning ahead. I'm sorry if that seems a little too forward."

Crowley felt a little like he were free-falling. "'M not," he managed.

"Beautiful and good?" Aziraphale said wisely. "Yes, you are. At least, you are to me, dearest. Come here."

Crowley drifted defencelessly towards Aziraphale, and realised a little late that he would actually have to stand up to leave the sofa. Aziraphale, luckily, forestalled him, and got up out of his chair to come and sit beside him. There he let Crowley lean in close, and folded one warm arm around him. The little happy sigh he gave was enough to make Crowley want to cry.

"Are you all right?" Aziraphale said quietly.

"Yes," Crowley said, his voice a little muffled. Aziraphale stroked his shoulder carefully, and Crowley let himself melt a little more into the warm safety of him. It was really far too early in the day for this sort of behaviour. Normally it would be the early hours of the morning (and Crowley would be extremely drunk), before he allowed himself to descend to this level of sentimental idiocy.

"Lovely," Aziraphale murmured, and combed through Crowley's hair with his fingers. "You're so lovely."

Crowley gave a vague hum of disagreement, but Aziraphale shushed him. 

"None of that. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Crowley relaxed a little. 

"Are you sure you're OK with this?" Aziraphale said softly. "I confess I didn't expect it to affect you so much. Just a silly little human indulgence of mine."

"It's… a lot," Crowley admitted, his face still hidden. "But I… Yes, I think so. As long as you… As long as you don't hope too much. I'm sorry I'm… like this."

"Never be sorry for being yourself, dearest," Aziraphale chided him. "Don't worry. I'll look after you, I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't actually specify a time or a place for the, ahem, _meal_, to take place, but Crowley sensed that Aziraphale wanted to give him some time to think about it. On the one hand, Crowley found it rather objectionable to feel as if he were being coddled, but on the other, he was very grateful that Aziraphale was allowing him the space, though it only made him more certain that he wanted to go ahead.

He did, however, try and take some time to think a little bit more about sex, and about why he'd avoided it all these years. It turned out that deep within the "things Crowley isn’t going to deal with right now” crate, there was a smaller, very battered box, labelled "all the sexual thoughts Crowley has ever had". Crowley was very hesitant to actually get it out, but when he did, he found it to be overwhelmingly full of Aziraphale. Quite unsurprisingly, really. But it was incredible, how much attraction for your hereditary enemy/best friend it was possible to repress. It didn't help that, once outside of their little box, the thoughts rather refused to be folded neatly back in. They cluttered up Crowley's life, taunting him as he tried to sleep, whispering in his ear on his car journeys, tickling desire up his thighs when he heard Aziraphale's voice on the phone.

Crowley became so annoyed with his own metaphor that he gave it up, but it was true that it was now very hard to un-think those thoughts again. It was just that he did find Aziraphale overwhelming attractive, ridiculously, magnetically, so. His smile, his eyes, his cheeks, his hair, his mouth. Not to mention his body, so unlike Crowley's, but so _perfect_ for him, the strength in his sturdy thighs, the contented little roundness to his stomach, the warmth and love and softness of him. His hands… Crowley couldn't help thinking about them now, and it was quite overwhelming.

So it happened that one day, Crowley became quite so agitated that he turned up to the bookshop, uninvited, during opening hours, on a Wednesday, no less. Aziraphale was surprised but very pleased to see him. Crowley tried to distract him by waffling around the point a little, but it wasn't helping.

Eventually, he blurted it out. "Aziraphale. The… The fine dining. When can we do it? I can't stop thinking about it, it's driving me mad."

"_Oh_," Aziraphale said, and his eyes went dark. Crowley thought that his legs might give way beneath him. "Oh, whenever you like, darling. Now?"

Crowley actually whimpered. "Not… I don't know. If you want…? I don't know, I might still need a bit more time, but I do _want_ to…"

Aziraphale put a firm, but gentle hand on his shoulder. "That's quite all right. You sit in the back. I'll kick out the customers and lock up, all right, and then we can have another talk about it, and go from there, OK?"

Crowley nodded and stumbled his way to the sofa. He set his glasses aside and sprawled facedown on it, to communicate the dramatic turmoil that he was feeling, and waited for Aziraphale to come and get him.

Aziraphale did tut a little when he saw him, but he also came directly to the sofa and poked Crowley into a sitting position, which surely counted as a win.

"Now, my dear, what is the matter?" Aziraphale asked patiently. He was so close that Crowley treacherous human heart thumped painfully. 

Crowley let out a theatrical groan. "Angel, you can never make a comment about me and my… wiles, and the tempting, ever again. Because I think I've been more tortured in this week that I ever made a human in six thousand years. And you weren't even _trying_."

"Well, I wouldn't say _that_," Aziraphale said coyly, his eyes sparking. "I was trying a little, dearest. What's the matter?" His voice dropped a little. "Are you a little frustrated?"

"Aziraphale…" Crowley growled, but Aziraphale didn't seem menaced in the slightest. If anything, his smile only intensified. 

"Well, what would you like to do about it? Just let me know what you feel comfortable with, and I'll do my best to oblige… oh!" 

Crowley crowded forward into his space, and was trying to find a middle-ground between wanting to be as close to Aziraphale as he could, while still, ridiculously, trying to avoid touching him. Something in him still quailed at the idea of making the first move. "I don't care what you do, angel," he said, teeth gritted. "Just please do _something_, because I'm going out of my _mind_."

"Well," Aziraphale said, his lips millimetres from Crowley's cheek, his voice a little breathless. "Let's try this then, shall we?"

He put a gentle, possessive hand high on Crowley's thigh, and Crowley was torn between melting into the sofa, lunging towards him, and running away. He let out a startled breath. He felt so damn _hot _in his skin all of a sudden, like Aziraphale's touch had completed a circuit inside him. 

"Are you all right, dear?" Aziraphale said.

Crowley gave an embarrassingly incoherent moan/whimper, and Aziraphale let his hand drift a fraction further up his leg. Crowley let his eyes fall closed for a moment, but after a few seconds, Aziraphale pulled away again.

"What's the matter?" Crowley asked hoarsely, opening his eyes and sitting up a little straighter. "Are you? Sorry, am I? Is it OK?"

Aziraphale shushed him gently, and put a hand to his cheek. "Sorry, it's not you, darling, I promise. I just… I said I wouldn't be pushy with you, and I was afraid I was going too fast. You said you still weren't sure, and you wanted to talk, but I got a little… carried away." Crowley was pleased to note that his cheeks were a little pink. "My apologies. You're just a little…" Aziraphale gave him a slow look up and down that made Crowley feel even hotter. "Irresistible."

"Ngk," Crowley said. 

"Anyway, please forgive me," Aziraphale said, moved his hand away, and sat a little straighter to attention. "What would you like to talk about?"

Crowley took a long breath and asked for _someone_ to give him strength.

"I've been thinking about this a lot," he said, and his voice sounded unlike his own. "I want to try this, I want _you_… But I'm scared of messing something up, or not enjoying it, or you not enjoying it… Or something changing between us. I couldn't bear it."

"Oh darling," Aziraphale said gently. "Nothing will change, I promise that. It's a little human distraction, that's all. You'll always mean more to me than some physical pleasure. I know you don't like the, ah, the Ritz metaphor, but if I may…" Crowley sighed deeply, but allowed him to continue. "If you decided you didn't like it there any more, dearest, then we'd just do something else. Yes, I do love it there, and I would still go by myself, from time to time, but there are a hundred other more important things about our relationship, do you see? We'd go for a drive instead, or go for a picnic, or even try something new… It wouldn't matter in the scheme of things, not at all."

"All right," Crowley said, and although everything Aziraphale had said seemed so straightforward, his heart still felt significantly lighter. "Can I… Can I kiss you?"

Aziraphale's eyes, a little misty from emotion, now sparkled with mischief. "Well, _can_ you?"

"Bastard angel," Crowley muttered, and leaned forward. He half-expected Aziraphale or his own nervousness to stop him, and was almost surprised when their lips actually made contact. The physical sensation (warmth, softness), was far less important than the little hum of surprise from Aziraphale, the way the noise made something flutter in Crowley's stomach, the way Aziraphale's hand returned to his cheek to hold him in place. 

Time passed quickly. One moment, Crowley was shifting back a little, worrying that he'd overstayed his welcome, and the next, Aziraphale was gently reeling him back in, the _love_ rolling off him in overwhelming waves. Crowley moved in closer and closer, almost crawling into his lap, and Aziraphale only encouraged him, murmuring breathlessly against his lips about how _good_ and how _lovely_ he was, and Crowley was too distracted to even object properly. Eventually Crowley paused, stunned and breathless, and Aziraphale soothed him wordlessly with one hand against his cheek and the other stroking through his hair.

"Well, my dear, you can't pretend you're not a little experienced with that," Aziraphale said, and Crowley was pleased to note that he seemed similarly winded.

"I've _kissed_ people before, angel," Crowley said indignantly, though his position in Aziraphale's lap rather undercut his outrage. "Though it is a little different with someone you're… You're attracted to… And don't you dare do that…"

Aziraphale beamed, did the pantomime pointing to himself, and whispered "_me_" again. Crowley would have growled at him, had it not been so revoltingly endearing. It was ridiculous, that Aziraphale would be flattered that Crowley was attracted to him, when anyone with _eyes_ would be attracted to him, but it was rather sweet nonetheless. So Aziraphale only got a very strong eye roll, which was really much better than he deserved.

"Are you… Do you want to talk more?" Aziraphale asked politely. His tartan collar was pleasantly rumpled, Crowley noticed.

"I don't think so," Crowley said slowly, flicking up his eyes slowly up and down Aziraphale's body, and admiring every little imperfection in his attire that seemed to scream "_Crowley was here"_. "Maybe just move on to the action."

"Are you sure?" Aziraphale said gently, though the eagerness in his face made Crowley's blood burn.

"Yes," Crowley said decisively, and managed to drag himself away from Aziraphale enough to stand. He reached out a hand, trying to imply confidence, and Aziraphale took it with a winning smile. "Do you have a bedroom anywhere here, or is it surplus to requirements?"

Aziraphale looked a little abashed. "Well, I actually had one set up for this very occasion, as a matter of fact…"

He guided Crowley up a little set of back stairs which Crowley was almost certain hadn't been there before, and into a large room with a high ceiling. Crowley eyed the enormous bed with a distinctive blend of trepidation and excitement. The sheets and bedclothes were a deep green, not Aziraphale's usual style, though Crowley couldn't deny that it was pleasant. 

"I do hope it's all right," Aziraphale fretted. "You seem to like the open space in your flat, so I thought I might give it a bit of a go."

"You…?" Crowley began, and his voice faltered before he could complete the thought. "The… green?" he managed.

Aziraphale looked simultaneously embarrassed, and rather pleased with himself. "Well, I thought it would go nicely with your hair, truth be told."

Crowley lunged forward to drag him into another kiss before he combusted. Aziraphale reciprocated enthusiastically, but despite Crowley being the one to make the first move, he was still somehow also the first to fall back on to the bed, Aziraphale a pleasant weight on top of him. 

"You are sure, darling?" Aziraphale murmured, between kisses. He ran another hand through Crowley's hair, and the very slight pull caused a ripple of need to shoot through Crowley's limbs. "Just tell me if you want to slow down, or stop, or anything, all right?"

"Yes, yes, get _on_ with it," Crowley said breathlessly, and attempted to wrestle Aziraphale's waistcoat off him. Entirely thwarted by the buttons, he had to stop to let Aziraphale take over, to his frustration. 

Still, with Aziraphale much more competent at the clothes removal, and with the fact that Crowley had started with far fewer layers, it didn't take long until Crowley's shirt and jacket were thrown aside, and Aziraphale was reaching for his trousers. Crowley was arcing his hips up to help him, before he suddenly remembered a rather foolish decision he'd made earlier, and froze.

"What's the matter?" Aziraphale said quickly.

"I… Ugh… I found some… Well, I conjured some…" Crowley covered his face in embarrassment. "Just take them off, you'll see."

Aziraphale shifted his trousers a little, and gave a sharp inhale at the first sight of black lace. "Oh _Crowley_, you _shouldn't_ have…" He sounded as if he'd just been given a particularly spectacular gift, and Crowley trembled with it.

During one of Crowley’s episodes of being bothered by his thoughts of attraction to Aziraphale, a particularly vivid (and very recent) memory had resurfaced. It involved Aziraphale giving an approving glance to a female lingerie-clad mannequin in a London shopfront, and making a remark about how he was glad that lace still retained a foothold in the modern fashion world. At the time, Crowley had teased him about his old-fashioned standards for clothing, and furiously tried not to imagine Aziraphale giving him that approving glance in similar circumstances. Then today, immediately before heading over to the bookshop, the memory had haunted him so thoroughly that he’d thought he’d just try and see if he could conjure a replica pair. It turned out that he could. Then he thought he’d just check what they looked like on him, and yes, the black did look rather nice. In fact, it had given him a certain boost of courage before coming over, though he had also promised himself that he could quickly vanish them if he wanted... And then completely forgotten that option in his lust. 

As Aziraphale pulled his trousers down and off, the appreciative look that Crowley had fantasised about was just as enjoyable as he’d imagined. Suddenly, however, Crowley had a brand new source of embarrassment, even apart from the rather revealing underwear. He was suddenly painfully aware that he was _wet_, shockingly so, probably soaking through the underwear, by the sensation. Aziraphale would be able to _see_, _feel_, maybe even _smell_, how ridiculously aroused he was, from a little simple kissing. Crowley lay back and covered his face with his hands, feeling his face heat, and prayed to someone that Aziraphale wouldn't notice.

Aziraphale stilled, and Crowley's prayers instantly turned into curses.

"Oh, Crowley," he murmured. "Are you…? Oh goodness…"

"Sorry," Crowley muttered, mortified. “I’m... I got... over-excited. It seems.”

Aziraphale's attention immediately snapped back to him. "Do not apologise," he said, and his voice was almost fierce. Crowley peeked at him behind his fingers, and then lowered his hands sheepishly. "There's no need to. It's very natural, and very flattering, and I’m very pleased that you’re enjoying yourself, considering that that is the point of the entire exercise. You might as well apologise to the waiter for enjoying your starter." He paused for a moment. "Would I… May I _touch_?"

"Yes," Crowley said hoarsely, face still burning, and self-consciously shifted his legs a little further apart to facilitate the inspection. He still jumped a little when Aziraphale put a hand on his thigh. "Sorry. Little nervous. Not… Not very demonic of me."

"No," Aziraphale said gently. "But very _you _of you." He wasn't even looking down between Crowley's legs, he was looking up at Crowley's face. His relaxed, smiling expression made Crowley feel safe and a little calmer, despite his pounding heart. "Just stop me if you want."

Crowley nodded jerkily, and then whimpered as Aziraphale's fingers skimmed up his inner thigh, their touch feather-light. Then they actually settled on the top hem of Crowley's underwear, the heat and pressure of him remarkably obvious against the sensitive skin beneath. Crowley managed a breathy inhale, and then Aziraphale stroked down, down, slowly along the centre line between his labia. Crowley had a moment to consider that despite his rapidly mounting arousal and trembling legs, this was fine, he could handle this, when Aziraphale repeated the motion again, and _again_…

Crowley felt his mouth go slack with the pleasure of it, and then jolted back into awareness. Aziraphale was still almost completely dressed, this was ridiculous.

"Stop," Crowley managed, though he actually groaned as Aziraphale withdrew his hand. It came away shiny, and Crowley's brain short-circuited. "No, no, it's good, just please, come here…"

He managed to strip Aziraphale of everything bar his trousers, though it took some effort. Aziraphale took pity on him and dealt with the pesky little fastenings himself, and then he was joining Crowley lying down on the bed, all of his beautiful curves on display, his cheeks pleasantly flushed, and his face glowing. 

"I'm sorry, I'd quite forgotten myself," Aziraphale said pleasantly. "I was supposed to be giving you a lesson, wasn't I?"

"Yes?" Crowley breathed..

"Well, at least I've taught you just a _little_ of what can feel good," Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "That did feel good, didn't it?"

"Yes," Crowley said, and wondered how long it would take for Aziraphale to get his hand back between Crowley's legs again. His wishes were answered only a few seconds later.

"Now, a lot of this is down to personal preference," Aziraphale said authoritatively, shifting his hand back down and resuming the terribly tickling stroking movement. "Some people like a little more pressure, some like it very gentle. How do you feel about _this_?" His fingers focused in at the top of Crowley's labia, rubbing in a small, deep circle. It felt as if an itch Crowley hadn't been able to place was being scratched. His legs jerked with the pleasure of it, and his enjoyment must have shown on his face, because Aziraphale smiled encouragingly. "Oh yes. Good?"

"Mm," Crowley squeaked.

"Lovely." One finger continued the rubbing, as another resumed the up-and-down motion. Crowley wasn't quite sure how Aziraphale had the coordination for this, but he wasn't about to complain. The second finger began to linger a little more at the bottom of the movement, where Crowley was increasingly conscious there was a little more _give_ in the underwear. Embarrassingly, it took him a few moments to realise that was because he had an _opening_ there, of course, though he really could blame it on how good everything felt, and how sweet and patient Aziraphale's expression was. 

"These really are very pretty, Crowley," Aziraphale murmured, nudging the underwear. "But could I take them off? I want to get to you a little more easily."

Crowley had so little patience for the bodily chore that he actually just miracled the underwear to the other side of the room. Aziraphale gave a delighted little hum, and then Crowley belatedly realised that yes, Aziraphale's fingers were pressing directly on to him now, slipping against his wet skin.

"Still all right?" Aziraphale said, continuing the motions. The second finger had slowed, and was staying focused on that lower portion now. Crowley became conscious that he was rocking his hips a little, but it felt too good to stop. "Would you like to be go harder, softer?"

"A little harder," Crowley whispered, feeling an odd combination of incredibly embarrassed, while also very well cared-for. "Especially…"

He made a vague movement, and Aziraphale tutted. "Especially _where_, dear?"

"Your… Your second finger, you… Just here…"

Crowley fumbled to guide Aziraphale's hand to the right place, and was stupidly surprised, and a little discomfited, to feel his fingers brushing his own warm, wet flesh. He recoiled a little, until he remembered the point of the exercise. He brushed his fingers against that point a little lower down, and felt the _give_ for himself.

"There, Aziraphale," he murmured breathlessly. 

Aziraphale had shifted still closer to him, and was staring with sultry, heavy-lidded eyes. "Why don't you try it, Crowley? See how it feels."

Crowley faltered. He hadn't planned on touching himself. But the feeling was still very good, even though it wasn't Aziraphale's finger there. The fact that Aziraphale was so near, and so encouraging, made it a lot easier. 

"Here, I'll help," Aziraphale said, and brushed his fingers against Crowley's. "You wanted more _here_, did you?"

Their fingers pressed against Crowley's opening, and the surrounding skin, and all the breath left Crowley in a rush.

"Yes," he managed.

"You can put one inside yourself, if you want," Aziraphale said confidentially. "Shall I show you?"

"Please," Crowley said weakly.

"Just one is no trouble at all," Aziraphale said. "Particularly if you're nice and warm and ready, which you are." He gave Crowley's clit (Crowley had managed to join those anatomical dots, thank you very much), another loving rub, and then descended his hand. He found his mark, and for a moment, there was just that _pressure_ again. And then, he tilted it somehow, and it dipped _in_, and Crowley's mouth dropped open again. It was less the physical sensation, and more the impossible intimacy of it – Aziraphale _inside_ him…

"So we can just start with the fingertip," Aziraphale said conversationally, as if he didn't know how much he was _destroying_ Crowley. The pad of his finger teased. "And then just a little more…" The rest of his finger slid in, deep and confident, and Crowley whimpered a little with it. "Now, it's quite your choice whether you choose to move in and out, or sometimes just the pressure inside is quite nice, but I personally prefer…"

He began to make confident circular motions with his finger, and Crowley could _feel _him pressing against his inner walls, and the shock of pleasure was very good indeed. He closed his eyes with the intensity of it. "A… Aziraphale…"

"Do you want to try?" Aziraphale said pleasantly, and Crowley opened his eyes just in time to see him pop the finger into his mouth. The bolt of arousal that hit him was almost painful. When Crowley didn't respond, Aziraphale tutted again, and guided his hand.

It was very hot, and very slippery, down there. Crowley was cautious, but Aziraphale was taking charge wonderfully. "Can you feel there?" Aziraphale said gently, steering his finger into position, and Crowley nodded jerkily. "That's it, darling…" Crowley guided his finger in, tensing up a little with the newness of it. It didn't feel quite as good as when Aziraphale had done it, but as Aziraphale murmured his approval, his arousal ratcheted up another level anyway. 

"You're so, so beautiful," Aziraphale said sincerely. He moved Crowley's hand free, and interlaced their fingers. Then he brought Crowley's fingers coyly to his lips, to lick and suck, and Crowley stared in awe-struck incredulity. "My darling, you're doing so well. You shouldn't have been nervous."

"I haven't done anything," Crowley croaked stupidly, still staring at the gorgeous, filthy angel in front of him, and trying not to be overwhelmed at how sensitive his fingers seemed all of a sudden. 

"You have, you have," Aziraphale promised, and came back to lie beside Crowley again. Crowley rolled into him so they were pressed closely together, and Aziraphale gave a pleased hum and kissed him gently. One hand wound into Crowley's hair, and the other went exploring down the length of his body. "You've trusted me, and you've listened to me, and you gave it a try, even though I know you were worried, darling…"

"I'd do anything you say," Crowley said, the intimacy shocking him into honesty. He couldn't take his eyes off Aziraphale. Aziraphale, who had been a little distracted by the kissing, suddenly drew back and regaled Crowley with assessing, stormy eyes.

After a long second, he said, "I know that, love," and kissed him again, very softly this time. "Can I touch you again?"

"Yes," Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale's fingers found their mark again almost instantly. 

"I'd love to make you come," Aziraphale said conversationally, clever fingers taunting Crowley. "Before I get inside you, that is. It makes it a little easier, sometimes, and I want to see it really very much."

Crowley was finding it very hard to focus, too busy on trying to control his breathing into ragged exhales instead of just panting into Aziraphale's face. 

"Oh, I have such a good idea," Aziraphale said warmly, and withdrew his hand. Crowley gave a little whimper in response. "Don't worry, darling, it'll only be a moment… Though please make that sound again, that's very good, come here, come here…"

Aziraphale shifted their positions, so that he was sitting upright, with his back to the headboard. Crowley was coaxed so he was sitting against him, his back pressed to Aziraphale's abdomen. Crowley missed being able to see Aziraphale's face, but he still could, if he leaned his head at the right angle, and the closeness of being able to feel Aziraphale's every breath against his back was dizzying. More importantly, he could feel Aziraphale's cock, a decisive heat at his back, and now Aziraphale had much easier access to reach between his legs.

"Open your legs, please," Aziraphale said, still terribly polite, and Crowley obeyed helplessly, bowing them as far apart as they could go. Aziraphale rewarded him with an approving hum, and the presence of his hand. "That's just perfect, oh, you're so good." Crowley suppressed a small whimper, and earned himself a tut for that. "No, no, let me hear you, please."

"Sorry," Crowley muttered, and then "oh… Oh! Aziraphale…"

"I do love to hear you say my name like that," Aziraphale said breathlessly. His hand had increased in tempo a little, and Crowley was shifting his legs feverishly to cope with the onslaught.The focus was mainly on Crowley's clit, but after a moment, the other hand joined in, to penetrate him with first one, and then two, fingers. Crowley was impressed, and rather mortified, at how very easily they slipped in. All those human hang-ups about virginity, really?

"Can you come like this?" Aziraphale murmured in his ear, breath hot. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Crowley gave a little moan-laugh. "You're already… You're already doing all the oh! Work, angel, d-do that again… Please…"

Aziraphale gave the same slow, deep grind with one hand, chuckling, and said, "Still. Tell me what you like."

Crowley struggled for words at first, but as Aziraphale listened and praised him for every preference he voiced, it became a little easier. He requested that the penetration stop after a little while – it was too overwhelming – and Aziraphale gladly obliged. Aziraphale took it upon himself to experiment with Crowley's nipples, which Crowley gave vocal approval to, and then shifted his free hand up to caress Crowley's hair. At one point, it began tugging beautifully at the roots again, as Aziraphale whispered about how good Crowley was being, and Crowley had the sudden, terrifying realisation that he was about to come.

"'Ziraphale," he slurred. "I'm… I think it's…"

"Good boy," Aziraphale said. "Just let it, all right? I've got you."

It was a little like flying slowly upwards. Crowley climbed, and climbed, and climbed, each time shocked that he was still going higher. His breaths gasped, and his legs trembled, and Aziraphale murmured answering praise for every tiny vocalisation or broken word that slipped past his lips. Crowley would have been frightened, had it not been for the complete, unalienable faith that Aziraphale _had_ got him, he was safe, he was loved…

After the long build-up, it happened all of a sudden. Suddenly, the air was punched out of his lungs, and his legs gained a genuinely violent shudder. The pleasure came pouring over him like hot water rushing down, as he made a garbled attempt at moaning Aziraphale's name. The tension in every muscle reached a high point, the pleasure peaked, and then Aziraphale slowed his movements, and Crowley felt like he was drifting very gently down to earth again, dreamy and breathless and exhausted.

It took him a little while to return to full awareness. He stretched his tense legs out and gave a shuddering exhale. Aziraphale was pressing fond kisses into his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” Aziraphale murmured smugly.

“You know I did, bastard.” Crowley rolled on his stomach so he could kiss Aziraphale against the headboard. The angel was very pink and warm, and a little flustered. “Thank you,” Crowley said sincerely a moment later, hoping his joking comment hadn’t come across as ungrateful.

Aziraphale flapped a hand at him. “No need to thank me, dearest. To help with your first time like that... Well, it was an honour, and most erotic, if I may say so.”

Crowley smirked, and gave a slow blink of his yellow eyes. “I suppose you may.”

“And,” Aziraphale continued. “If I may be so bold, the way you follow instructions, is, well, delightful.”

Crowley flushed a little, and lowered his eyes, suddenly shy. After thousands of years of detesting anyone who attempted to give him orders, it seemed completely counterintuitive, and really extremely embarrassing, that it was something he enjoyed sexually. “Sorry, I...”

“No, no, no, none of that,” Aziraphale said briskly, tilting his chin up with one finger. “I was appreciating it. If you enjoy that sort of thing, it gives me lots of lovely ideas for next time.”

“I…" Somehow, this was easier when Aziraphale was meeting his eyes so assertively. It felt like he had nowhere to hide, but only because he was being attended to so thoroughly."I do like it,” he confessed. As he tried to work through in his own head why he liked it, he inadvertently blurted out those thoughts aloud. “I… I like you taking charge because I trust you, and you’ll look after me...”

“Of course," Aziraphale said, like it was a foregone conclusion that one would want to love and care for Crowley.

“What... What sort of ideas were you thinking of?” Crowley asked. “Could you tell me?”

Aziraphale gave a delightful full-body shiver at that. “Oh, you minx. Yes, I suppose I could.”

He deftly rolled them over, so Crowley was pressed against the headboard instead, with Aziraphale hemming him in. Oh yes, that was rather nice. Aziraphale’s eyes sparked with mischief at Crowley’s reaction.   
  
“Well, I think I’d go in for a bit more of this, if you enjoyed it, of course,” Aziraphale said, indicating their respective positions. “And maybe even this...” He took Crowley’s hands in his, interlacing their fingers again, and then pinned Crowley’s arms up above his head with surprising strength. Still, he was a very powerful immortal soldier of God Herself – it was to be expected, really. All of Crowley’s breath exited his lungs in a single breath. “Yes?” Aziraphale said, clever eyes tracking Crowley's reaction, lips already curling into a smirk.

“Yes,” Crowley said, his throat dry.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale said warmly, and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s neck. Crowley leaned his head back helplessly to let him. “Well if you like that too, then all the more possibilities. Things to keep you nice and still, right where I want you. I could find some nice cuffs – they make them specially nowadays, you know, lovely and comfortable. Some black ones would be very you, they'd look marvellous on your skin.”

“Oh,” Crowley said eloquently, and began to become distinctly aware that he was aroused again.

“Anyway, you mustn’t distract me,” Aziraphale said, with a slightly admonishing tone. “I want to look after you a bit more this time, before we get caught up in next time.”

“I hate to use your terrible metaphor,” Crowley said, his voice remarkably even considering that Aziraphale was still holding him down. “But I thought we were going to move on to the main course, so to speak?" He glanced pointedly down Aziraphale’s body, where his plump cock was taking a distinct interest in proceedings.

“Crowley, really,” Aziraphale huffed. “To consider, well, the act of penis-in-vagina penetration the main focus of sexual intercourse is very reductive. There are far more possibilities than that, and it certainly isn’t a requirement in any sense. Not to mention that's it's very… What do they call it nowadays? Heteronormative!"

Crowley spluttered at him. "Heteronormative?!"

"Well yes, darling, there's no doubt that we really take a lot of liberties with all those human gender preoccupations, and it's absolutely old-fashioned to keep any old hang-ups about it. Then again, I suppose we remember before they even had these ones… The Greeks really did everything so differently…"

"You're trying to lecture me on hetero… Heteronormativity?" Crowley said incredulously. "I spent eleven years as a female nanny! I haven't got any, any… hang-ups about the silly gender business! I'm calling it the main course because I thought that was the point of this exercise! I thought that's what you wanted, what you were in the mood for! And!" he continued hotly, before Aziraphale had a chance to object. "Because that's what I've been fucking starving for since you mentioned it."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, very pleased. "Well, in that case… Though really, it's not all I want, you know." He gave Crowley a severe look that was a little too knowing. "This has never just been about me wanting to… Well, to be crass, penetrate something."

“You don’t want to fuck me, then, angel?” Crowley said, shifting his hips a little.  
  
Aziraphale looked affronted. “I did not say that.”  
  
“Well, get on with it, then.”

“Oh, so you’re demanding as well now, are you?” Aziraphale said, though there was only affection in it. He shifted his weight off Crowley’s arms a little so he could change position. “Well, all right then. How are you feeling? Relaxed?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Crowley said. “But I think I... I think you could...” He moved a little, as though offering himself up.

“Do you mind if I...?” Aziraphale said, extending his hand.

“Oh, b-be my guest,” Crowley babbled, faux-casual, and Aziraphale gave a beatific smile as his hand slipped between Crowley’s legs again. Crowley felt the blood rush to his face in embarrassment and arousal. Damn it, there was slick all around his inner thighs, what had Aziraphale done to him? And indeed two fingers slipped in very easily, Aziraphale applying pressure to his clit to make him squirm.

“Oh, very good,” Aziraphale said, like Crowley had actually done something particularly excellent, or indeed, done anything at all. “Hmmmm.” He gave Crowley a thoughtful look, as if he were considering saying something.

“Spit it out, angel,” Crowley said. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Why must you be so vulgar?” Aziraphale fussed, and waved aside Crowley’s outraged allegations of hypocrisy. “Yes, of course, of course, but I was just wondering if I could do something else for you first?”

“Something else?” Crowley asked. “You’ve already…" He stuttered around the concept, unable to pick the right word, and eventually just let it hang, unsaid. "…Me once. Don’t you want me to do something else for you first?”

“No, no, my treat,” Aziraphale said. “Besides, I know the human refractory period can be tinkered with a bit, but your, ah, model, tends to come with a few more goes in it anyway. Besides, it’s something I enjoy very much, so not just a favour to you.”

“What is it?” Crowley said. "Why are you being so coy all of a sudden?"

“Pleasuring you with my mouth,” Aziraphale said frankly, his cheeks very pink. "They do call it "eating out", as a matter of fact, so it's rather been on my mind after our conversations. I'm very good at it, even if I do say so myself. And it's one of my particular favourites, and I'll enjoy it quite as much as you."

"Oh," Crowley said. The thought of Aziraphale being quite so close to his genitalia was a little intimidating, but he couldn't deny that the image had its merits. And if Aziraphale enjoyed it… Well, who was Crowley to deny him? "Any reason why it's got you all hot and bothered?"

"I just do like it very much," Aziraphale said, wiggling a little. "I would just love to taste you, Crowley, and it's a lot to confess."

"Well," Crowley said, hoping his face wasn't flushing too much in response. The hunger in Aziraphale's eyes was undeniable, and very attractive. "If you want to, then be my guest. Where do you want me?"

"Thank you," Aziraphale said. His eyes glinted. "Stay up against the headboard, please. Spread your legs. You can have your hands gripping the headboard, or my hair, please."

Crowley wanted to make a sarcastic comment, but his words failed him. Bossy Aziraphale was a thing to behold. He hastened to obey, hands on the headboard for the time being.

"Thank you," Aziraphale said politely, and scooted down the bed a little further, so that when he bowed down, his face was level with Crowley's crotch. He actually gave a visible inhale, which made Crowley shiver with embarrassment. "Oh, one more request, Crowley?"

"Anything," Crowley breathed, and he meant it.

"I don't suppose you could try not to come?"

"I… How do I not?" Crowley asked genuinely.

"Just let me know if you get too close," Aziraphale said. "Not to worry, I'll try and do the work. It doesn't matter if you do, just… When the female body is in a high state of arousal, the vaginal canal can really open up to admit penetration, as it were…" He accompanied this fact with what appeared to be an extremely inappropriate hand gesture.

"Is this really the time for a human biology lesson?" Crowley hissed, hopelessly on-display and not a little desperate to be touched again.

"Sorry," Aziraphale said. "My thought was just to get you a little bit more worked up, until we move on to… Let's just call it the next course, shall we? And if you manage to hold off, it would make me very happy." His eyes twinkled, and Crowley was lost.

"Ugh. Fine, fine, whatever you say, angel, I'll try my best…"

"Splendid," Aziraphale said, and then descended between Crowley's legs with a pleased sigh.

Crowley was immediately conscious of just how close Aziraphale was to him. Crowley had a shockingly clear view of his flushed lips and cheeks, and his darkening eyes. But Aziraphale could also look up the entirety of Crowley’s body, and indeed, his gaze was currently fixed unerringly on Crowley’s face.

Aziraphale started with tiny kisses to his inner thighs, which Crowley could just about handle. When he moved in to nose at Crowley’s clit, however, Crowley instinctively threw an arm over his face to shield himself from Aziraphale’s stare, and muffle a moan.

Aziraphale lifted his mouth just enough so that he could talk. “None of that, please. Hands on the headboard or in my hair. I want to see you.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said, his voice strangled. With an effort, he moved his arm back to the headboard, and then had to wait, breathless, as Aziraphale got back to business.

There was no doubt that Aziraphale was very good at this, and his enjoyment was also evident, if the little moans he kept whispering into Crowley’s flesh were any indication. Crowley tried furiously not to think about eating, and about how he was never going to be able to watch Aziraphale neatly lick a spoon clean ever again without losing his mind. Initially, Aziraphale was using both hands to hold Crowley’s knees open, but after a little while, he moved one of them down between his own legs. Crowley hissed in frustration, annoyed that he wasn’t able to see, and Aziraphale only gave him a smug, blushing smirk in response.  
  
Crowley was conscious that he had to take notice of when his orgasm was approaching, and when he felt himself begin that climb again, he gave a cry of warning. “Aziraphale, stop, stop...” He drew up the courage to reach his hands into Aziraphale’s short, tight curls to drag him back. Aziraphale seemed surprised, though not displeased. Crowley tried not to focus on how damp his mouth was.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I’m fine, I was just trying to stop myself...” Crowley hissed, feeling the pleasure slowly ebb away. His legs shuddered.

“Oh, very good boy,” Aziraphale said, pleased, and the words sent a hot rush through Crowley that felt like a physical touch in itself. Crowley froze, and willed the feeling to die back a little, before he dared to breathe again. “Goodness me, that really gets you going, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale commented.

“Don’t fucking mock me, angel,” Crowley snarled, but there was no heat in it.

Aziraphale brought him to that brink twice more. After politely waiting for Crowley to catch his breath after the third time, Aziraphale very gently slid two fingers into him. It made an audible squelching noise. Crowley was almost too far gone to object, but he did give a low, mortified groan. Aziraphale hummed, as if considering, and swirled his fingers in a circle again.

“I know I’m really going to regret bringing up another food metaphor for you to use,” Crowley panted, rocking up into the touch. "Nghh. But you doing that makes me think of you stirring a pot of something."

"Oh," Aziraphale said warmly. "Well, I like that. You're a pot of something perfectly delicious on my stove, and I'm just checking to see if you're done. As long as I can have a taste…" He popped his fingers into his mouth, and Crowley covered his face again. "And hopefully in a moment I can make you bubble over."

"That's not only as corny as h-… As shit, it also makes no fucking sense," Crowley complained. "Why is the…? If you were trying to eat the…? Why would you want it to bubble over, even?"

Aziraphale beamed. "You set me up for it, darling…"

"Tell me your ridiculousness at least has a pay-off," Crowley moaned. "Are you going to fuck me yet, or not?"

"Well, yes," Aziraphale said primly. "If you want to?"

Crowley's eyes, which had been squinted shut in his embarrassment, flew open. "If I want to?! Haven't I spelled it out enough? Angel, you are killing me…"

"All right, all right," Aziraphale said tolerantly, chuckling a little, the bastard, as he shifted up the bed to kiss Crowley. "Do you have a preference as to position? There's missionary, of course, entirely inappropriately named, but that's by the by. For a first time we could try something a little more comfortable, or…"

"Nah, the… The first one's fine," Crowley said, trying to act casual and failing. At Aziraphale's raised eyebrows, he mumbled, "I'd like… Like to see you."

"Oh, of course, my darling," Aziraphale said, and his face was so sweet and loving that Crowley could just about melt away. "Let's get situated, then, here…" He helped Crowley move down the bed a little, so his head was cushioned on soft pillows. Aziraphale loomed over him and kissed him reverently. Crowley closed his eyes and reached cautious hands into his soft curls in answer. Aziraphale hummed approvingly, and nudged Crowley's legs apart with his own.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley opened his eyes. Being this close to Aziraphale was mesmerising. Crowley wanted to commit every inch of his face to memory. He wanted to never have to look away again.

"Yes," Crowley said hoarsely. "Yes, Aziraphale, please, I want…"  
  
"All right," Aziraphale said, and kissed him so tenderly that Crowley's heart ached. "If you want me to slow down at all, or stop, just say the word, OK?"

Crowley nodded, and a moment later his mouth fell open as he felt the blunt head of Aziraphale's cock at his entrance. It was wider than his fingers, hot, unyielding. Aziraphale gave a little inhale at the friction, but just teased around the opening, his fingers seeking out Crowley's clit again.

"Just put it in, I swear to someone," Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale finally took mercy on him.

It was a snug fit, but not painful in the slightest. More like a satisfying stretch – the way Aziraphale's curling fingers had felt inside him. Crowley inhaled instinctively, but was completely arrested by the sight of Aziraphale’s face. His mouth had fallen open in that perfect round “o”, and his eyelids fluttered as he tried to control himself. He was watching Crowley’s face for signs of discomfort, though, and at Crowley’s encouraging nod, pushed in another inch, and then another, until he was completely seated inside. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's hips firm against his own. He foolishly boggled at the fact that this body was able to just contain all of Aziraphale like that.

“O-oh goodness. Are you all right?” Aziraphale said. His voice was perfectly even, which was quite an achievement considering the sweat beading on his forward.

“Oh yes,” Crowley said decisively. He felt relieved that there was no discomfort, smug at having successfully accepted Aziraphale like this, and distinctly turned-on. He made an effort to consciously relax, and hooked his legs around Aziraphale’s body to bring him even closer. Aziraphale let out a delighted groan at that, and Crowley used the sound to cover his own whimper of pleasure.

“Are you sure... are you sure it’s all right? No pain, you feel comfortable?”

“No, it feels fine, good, hnn...” Crowley said, aware as he did so that the words were utterly inadequate to express how he was feeling right now.

Aziraphale must have sensed his moment of weakness, because his eyes sharpened. He gave a single slow roll of his hips that made Crowley’s toes curl as the pressure of Aziraphale’s pelvis ground down against his clit. Crowley's answering whine was entirely involuntary. “Tell me how it feels, would you?”

It wasn’t necessarily an order, but it did look like it would make Aziraphale very happy, and Crowley didn’t need much experience of this to know that making Aziraphale very happy was extremely important to him. As he hesitated, Aziraphale rolled his hips again, a little harder, this time. “Crowley. Tell me.”

“Feels really good when you do that,” Crowley managed. Aziraphale made a sound of mock-surprise ("oh?"), did it again, and Crowley cursed him under his breath. But he knew Aziraphale was still waiting for more. “It feels very... It’s a bit overwhelming, but not in a bad way.” He stared up at Aziraphale’s face (so close), feeling helpless and vulnerable, and not hating the feeling as he normally did. “It's good, like a stretch. Inside. Like your fingers. Feel very f-full.”

“Oh, do you?” Aziraphale said, pleased. Crowley got another thrust for his efforts, and his eyelids fluttered. “All full up, are you?”

Crowley felt like the words were breaking something in him. “Yes,” he gasped, as Aziraphale thrust again. “Full of you, a-angel, up to the brim, but I want more of you, I...” He grasped at Aziraphale’s jawline and shoulder as his pace increased. “Don’t stop," he said desperately. "Want to... Want you to stay here, in me." The sound of a tiny moan in the back of Aziraphale's throat galvanised him. "S-stay with me. Please.”

“My darling,” Aziraphale said, his breath hot at Crowley’s ear, his voice shaking a little. “I’m not ever going to leave you. We can do this every day, if you like. The rest of our lives.”

“Yes,” Crowley gasped. “Please, angel.” He actually thought he might cry, which was patently ridiculous, and rather humiliating. Demons did not cry during sex, but then... What sort of a demon even was he, anymore? That was his past, irrelevant. His future wasn't about Crowley The Demon, it was about Crowley-and-Aziraphale, Aziraphale-and-Crowley, on their own side, one inseparable unit, one being.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Aziraphale said, and yes, the soft fool actually was tearing up as he touched Crowley’s cheek and drew him close. “I won’t leave you.”

“Swear it,” Crowley choked.

“I swear it,” Aziraphale breathed on a ragged exhale as he thrust again. “Never.” Crowley clung to him, and told himself that he was only losing his composure because he was nearing his peak again.

"I'll hold you to that," Crowley said, and then, conscious that he sounded far too serious, tried to lighten the tone. "I want – I want you to take me apart like this a hundred times, angel."

Aziraphale gave a breathless laugh. "I intend to. You look so good like this." He interlaced their fingers again, and pinned Crowley's hands up against the headboard. Crowley gave a little whine of pleasure and protest. "You were made for this, my dear, made for me. And I'm going to have all of you."

"Greedy," Crowley managed, and then, "Ngh, fuck…"

There was a brief hiatus in the tender confessions, as Aziraphale now seemed to be moving with indomitable purpose with the purpose of making Crowley come. As his thrusts increased in speed, though, Crowley found himself instinctively squinting his eyes shut. He took a moment to wonder why, only to realise that yes, Aziraphale was physically glowing. Clearly he wasn't only a little lax with the angelic presence when he was drunk. Still, it was little hardship for Crowley to close his eyes against the growing light and focus on the sensations.

As the glow intensified, however, Crowley could feel it too – a faint, warm, pleasurable tingling where the light touched him, growing in intensity. It was a little like being enveloped by a slow-motion fireball. It started slowly, and then all of a sudden, it was overwhelming, setting his nerves alight with ecstasy. Crowley barely had time to cry out Aziraphale's name before he was coming, body clenching tightly around the cock inside him, clinging on for dear life to Aziraphale's arms, hoping he wasn't hurting him. To his relief, he heard a bitten-off curse from Aziraphale too, and then a matching shudder as he plunged forward into Crowley one final time. The bright light behind Crowley's eyelids finally dimmed.

Once the tremors had passed, Crowley flopped back on to the pillows with a sigh, spent, boneless, and exhausted. There was the decidedly odd sensation of Aziraphale withdrawing from him, even as Crowley's body seemed to try and drag him back in. Then a moment later, the weight of an angel, and the tell-tale sensation of two folded wings, joined him on the pillows as well.

They lay for a few moments in silence, catching their breaths. When Crowley finally opened his eyes, it was to see Aziraphale blinking adoringly at him. The wings had gone, but Crowley knew what he'd felt.

"So, I guess that doesn’t normally happen with your many human lovers?" Crowley said teasingly, though he did ruin it by brushing Aziraphale's cheek tenderly with one finger. Aziraphale tried for an innocent look, but Crowley forestalled him. "I felt the feathers. And nearly got blinded, too."

"Oh. The ah, manifesting? No, well. It's actually never happened before, if you can believe that," Aziraphale said, a little sheepish. "Sorry about the... hm, blinding.”

“Oh, hasn’t it?” Crowley said, trying and failing not to sound smug. “Well, I suppose that’s very flattering, angel. And it felt good, so I don’t so much mind the blinding.”

“We could get you a blindfold next time,” Aziraphale said coyly, and then giggled at Crowley’s expression. “And of course it hasn’t happened before, silly. It’s an expression of the, well, the way I feel about you. The angelic love just rather poured out of me. I can’t keep it hidden.”

“Oh. Well,” Crowley stammered, and tried very hard not to be affected. “Hm. Well. I suppose that’s... I suppose that’s all right then.”

“Come here,” Aziraphale breathed, and tugged him into a tight hug, skin-to-skin. Crowley closed his eyes. Aziraphale was warm and soft. Crowley felt as if he could very much fall asleep in his arms. “I hope you’re not getting jealous, now.”

“Not jealous,” Crowley huffed petulantly.

“Hmmm,” Aziraphale said sceptically. “Well. I can say that humans have been perfectly engaging through the years, when I didn’t have any other option, but I’m certainly not going back to them now. They can’t compare at all.”

Something in Crowley’s chest gave a little pleased, possessive growl. Aloud, he only said, “Good. Because it seems you’ve got a far filthier mind than I ever gave you credit for, and I want to know the full extent of it.”

“Very rude of you, Crowley,” Aziraphale teased. “Just because I’m more experienced, doesn’t mean that I’m filthy.”

“You are, though.”  
  
“All right, so I might have a few toys and some nice lingerie of my own under the bed,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley choked. “Not that you can talk! I haven’t forgotten your charming lacy underwear.”

“Hm,” Crowley said shortly, trying to regain his composure, and wondering why he had ever imagined he might be successful in embarrassing Aziraphale. “Well. Either way. I look forward to it. As long as you don’t try to discuss it in the Ritz.”

“My dear, half the fun was seeing your mortified face,” Aziraphale said. “No promises.”

“Can we sleep now?” Crowley said with a yawn. “This sex stuff is exhausting.”

“You can,” Aziraphale said. “I rarely do, but I might make an exception. You are exceptional, after all.” Crowley went to roll his eyes, but Aziraphale ran a gentle hand through his hair, and Crowley leaned wordlessly up into the touch instead.

“Thank you,” he said, drifting into sincerity despite his best intentions. “Thank you for... Looking after me. Being with me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “Thank you, for sharing yourself. I know it’s hard for you, being vulnerable like this. But I do love it. And you, very much.”

Crowley closed his eyes, and thought that maybe if he pretending he was falling asleep, he could get away with it. “I still can’t believe you feel the same way,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “For so long, I...”

“That was my fault, darling,” Aziraphale said, and stroked his hair again. “You know I was scared too. I’m sorry.”

Crowley let out a soft laugh, and nosed into the softness of Aziraphale's cheek. “If we’re both scared, then maybe it doesn’t matter. We’ll just figure it out together.” He sighed. “Sorry, I know we’ve... We’ve been through this before. It’s just, different, somehow. I know the sex is just a silly human behaviour thing, but it’s made me... Think about things.”

“That’s normal,” Aziraphale reassured him. “Lots of intimacy, lots of hormones. It’s fine.” He squeezed Crowley gently, and Crowley nestled his face in closer. “I’ve got you, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Crowley murmured, almost inaudible, into Aziraphale’s skin, and then forgot that he was only pretending to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness, thanks so much to everyone who has commented. I will try my best to reply to everyone! This is the last chapter of this particular story... But! If anyone has ideas for other scenes in this 'verse, please let me know in the comments. I really can't promise that I'll write any more, but if inspiration strikes, it really helps me to have some ideas to start with. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in this fandom, comments are love xx


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